Yarny Goodness: Works in Progress

After promising knitting pix months and months ago, and not really delivering, I've finally got some! Okay, first up is the Embossed Leaves socks. The green is actually much deeper in real life--it reminds me of the deep, dark forest. This is Malabrigo sock yarn, and I love it. One sock is finished, and the other is barely begun.



This next one is a shawl called Queen Anne's Lace. I love the pattern, but I'm just not sure about the yarn. Although the individual colours are gorgeous by themselves, it reads as a sort of barfy orange, and this particular vareigated yarn is not thrilling me with this pattern. The yarn is Dream in Color Baby in the Flamingo Pie colourway.




This is the Rippling Rainbow shawl from the book "A Gathering of Lace". It is actually finished now, and was a birthday present for Little Mouse. She adores it, and it turned out so well, I am making another one for me, only I'm using hand-dyed yarns (dyed myself in my crockpot) for the rainbow colours.

Here's my first yarn ever, spun on a Schacht Hi-Lo spindle. I really like spinning--it's very relaxing, and I'm seeing improvement every time I sit down with the spindle. Eventually I'd like to be able to spin lace weight yarn, but as you can see from the picture, I'm not even close!

Here are the hand dyed yarns I'm using for my Rainbow shawl. I tried several times to get a red that I liked, but everything I was able to achieve was either too orange or too pink, so I am using the same red I used in Little Mouse's shawl, which is Knit Picks Palette, in Pimento. I'm also using their Palette yarn in Black for the main part of the shawl.

So that's what I've been up to lately! With all these fun new hobbies, summer is going by really fast (which is a good thing!).

Hand Dyed Yarn!

Little Mouse and I dyed yarn last weekend, and I finally managed to get the pictures out of the camera without them running out the wires and dribbling on the floor. I managed this difficult feat by lurking about in earshot of The Chief and saying plaintively, "Boy, I sure wish my pictures were in the computer so I could post them on my blog. I'm sure my three readers are just dyeing to see them..."

Anyway, this was my first attempt...it's a worsted weight wool, so it's too thick for socks, but it was sort of a trial so I could see how the colours would come out. It's actually exactly what I was hoping for.

This next one is Little Mouse's first attempt. She blended teal, violet, and peach. I warned her that things might get muddy where the colours touched, and while we were waiting for the dyes to set, it looked a little scary, but once we rinsed it out, we were both surprised to see how pretty it turned out.

Little Mouse is thrilled with it. She's thinking about making fingerless mitts or maybe a scarf with it.

So this is what our summer is going to look like...bright and colourful. And by fall we'll be drowning in yarn!

Busy, Busy, Busy...and Game-Addicted

So, I am, contrary to popular belief, still hanging about the blogosphere, I've just got a whole lot of things dancing around in my head competing for my attention. Like...

1. Knitting. I have socks (2 pairs), mittens, hat, dish cloth, and shawl on the needles at the moment, and am contemplating taking the plunge and trying a sweater. Eek. Somebody stop the woman before she hurts herself!

2. Baten Kaitos. I am writing an FAQ for this Most Awesome of Video Games, because the ones I've found to date just don't cut it for me. Yes, I realize this is a monumental waste of my time, and yes, I realize that at 43 years old I have better things to do with my life, but really, there's something about organizing large, complex data sets that just sort of floats my boat. As it were. It was my favorite part of writing my dissertation, and it was my favorite part of the work I did after that on data analysis of the contents of nuclear waste tanks. Yes, all right, that means I'm a geek of sorts. But it also means that after four years of trying, I'm finally going to beat this damn video game!

3. Catherine Asaro. I've started re-reading her Skolian saga and even though I've read it before (a few years ago) I can't put it down. 'Nuff said.

4. The embryonic novel that's in my head right now and won't shut up. I've started writing a few scenes for it, and run through a few more in the shower. Don't ask. It works.

None of these things is really conducive to sitting down quietly and typing up insightful blog entries that the world at large...or...the three of you who are still reading this thing...are interested in hearing about, and so all I can do is come before you with my hands spread, shake my head dolefully, and say, "I got nothin'"

Maybe I'll have more time after I've beaten the damn game next week, eh?

Adventures with Socks, Part One

No, gentle readers, "socks" is not a cat (or a chinchilla, although The Chief's first pet chinchilla was named Sock, as she was too small to make a coat out of...). "Socks", in this context, is an article of footwear I am attempting to knit. Attempting being the operative word, here.

Actually, I am attempting a sock. Just one. I probably don't have enough wool for two, and who am I kidding, this thing is not actually going to be wearable, so why on earth would I want two? I have some chai, some green wool (like I've ever worn green socks in my life), and a set of bamboo needles (because, you know, I'm a klutz, and bamboo sort of grips the wool so you don't have to be overly dextrous...that's the theory, anyway. We'll see if it holds up.). My process looks something like this...

1. According to the sock book, my knitted cast-on that my mother taught me over the phone back in August is neither flexible nor strong enough for socks. I realize with a sinking heart that I am going to have to attempt the finger gymnastics required for the "long-tail cast-on"...and I can't make head nor tail of the instructions in the sock book, so it's back to my beginner book to see if I can figure it out. I'm persistent, and I have chai, so it's only a matter of time. Really. (For those who do not knit, casting on is getting that first row of stitches onto the needle; there are a number of ways to do this, all of which, in my opinion, are not for the spatially challenged.)

2. My beginner book says nothing about this vaunted "long-tail cast-on", but does show a "slingshot" cast-on. Which looks like it involves as much finger gymnastics as the "long-tail cast-on", and might even be the same thing, but what do I know? I take a sip of chai and hope that they are the same thing. Any normal person would be able to tell, just by looking, if they were the same, but I am, as we have noted before, spatially challenged, and I will just have to close my eyes and...no, wait, closing my eyes is probably not going to work...I mutter a swift prayer to the Universe and begin.

3. Long pause and much inappropriate language.

4. I realize that this "long-tail cast-on" is just as complicated as it was the last twelve times I tried to do it. No matter which way I turn the book, it still involves me visualizing a two-dimensional drawing of fingers and yarn and somehow transforming this into a three-dimensional process. Translation: it ain't gonna happen.

5. My thirteen-year-old son hears me muttering dire imprecations under my breath. He sidles up to me and glances at the picture in the book for about three seconds (I swear, his eyes just sort of brushed over it), takes the needle and yarn out of my hand, and proceeds to cast on three stitches. He hands the needle back to me and says all innocently, "So what's the problem?"

6. I put away the knitting in disgust and decide that the only thing I'm likely to knit in the next twenty years is scarves. Lots of scarves.

7. After dinner I decide upon a new tactic. With coloured pencils I carefully colour the little strands of yarn in the picture, each one a different colour, so that I can see what, exactly, is going on in the picture.

8. I take a deep breath and try again. After a while, I begin muttering to myself again.

9. My son glances over at me. "You're holding the yarn wrong," he tells me. How he can tell this from six feet away, I have no idea. He comes over and loops the yarn around my fingers in the proper arrangement, then holds my hand and guides my needle up and down and in and out...and something clicks and I finally get it.

10. Moral: my son should be doing the knitting around here, not me.

The Pinnacle of Creativity

In a daring move, demonstrating that I am currently at the pinnacle of creativity, I have (dramatic music) invented a new knitting stitch! The stitch was created out of absolute necessity, and I'm sure it will take the knitting world by storm.

The new stitch is called Remove Ubiquitous Dog Hair, and is abbreviated RUDH. It is performed by gripping the offending dog hair between thumb and forefinger without losing tension on your yarn, and then yanking hard, with a few colourful words thrown in for good measure.

With this new stitch in place, the lace row on the wrap I'm making now becomes, K2tog (3x), K1, yo, RUDH, K1, yo, RUDH...and so on. It's quite exciting to be the inventor of a new stitch, you know.

Of course, there is always the question of what to do with the piles of Ubiquitous Dog Hair once I've finished a knitting project. In keeping with the spirit of my frugal upbringing, I'm considering the benefits of learning how to spin...dog hair sweater, anyone?

Yarn Barf

The lacy pink scarf I was knitting for Little Mouse for xmas has morphed into a grey wrap with a pink stripe...I attempted to take pix over the weekend, but it just looks like a tangle of grey yarn, and until it is blocked, I fear it will continue to look like a pile of yarn barf...

Still, I'm getting on with it...it is nearly two feet long already, and I've used up nearly half of my grey wool, which is about right, as the final product should end up being about 52" long...before blocking...and since I've never knitted (or blocked) lace before, I shall not be at all surprised if the finished wrap ends up being seven or eight feet long!

Regardless of how long it ends up being, I think Little Mouse will be thrilled...she's quite admiring of it already, even though it just looks like a pile of yarn, and has no idea it's for her...she thinks it's a practice piece.

Waiting for Someone

I am waiting for someone.

I know he's out there. I have a vague picture of him in my mind, and some restless ideas about who he is and what he wants. But he hasn't shown himself yet, nor has he spoken to me.

"He" is the main character of my next novel. He doesn't have a name yet, or a story, but I have that sense that someone is out there, lurking on the edges of my mind, waiting for the right moment to leap in and demand that his story be told.

Once he shows himself, my life will change. His story will consume my thoughts and my dreams, and I will write on fire to get it told until it's done. Floors will gather even more dog hair than they have now (anyone who tells you huskies don't shed is lying through their teeth), dishes will pile up in the sink, and bathrooms will become...unmentionable. Er...more unmentionable.

It's probably the knitting that has brought this on. For those of you who don't knit, I've found it to be a lot like crochet in the sense that it can be a meditative experience. Once I know what I'm doing, my hands sort of take over and the creative part of my mind goes wandering off into unexplored territory.

Which is all well and good if I actually feel like I want to write a novel, but right now I don't. A novel takes a lot of work and time and energy, and I don't feel like I have that much to give right now. And I don't like the feeling of this restless, creative tension coiled up inside me. It feels like the air before a summer storm, dark and brooding, and full of energy.

Whoever this guy is, I hope he shows up soon...I'd like to give him a piece of my mind; a much smaller piece than he'll get if I decide to tell his story. I could use a good argument right about now. I'll just tell him to go bother some other writer and leave me alone.

Yeah. Like that's ever worked before.

Writing Prompt: This is how I look at my process. What does your creative process look like?

A Knitting Fool

This whole knitting thing is going quite remarkably well. I have knit a couple of dishcloths using simple stitches (sorry, no pix yet...I'm just not tech savvy enough to figure out how to get them out of the camera and into the computer without them running out through the wires and ending up all over the floor, and The Chief has about had it with computers lately, as he's had to do a number of fixes on our network around here). The good news is that the dishcloths actually look like dishcloths...they are square and everything! The bad news is that I would never in a million years actually use a dishcloth that looked like that, and besides, I was getting really bored with knitting them.

Cheryl Fuller over at Jung at Heart, who does some absolutely superb lace knitting, suggested that I get away from the dishcloths and start knitting some simple lace patterns, since that is what I really want to do...she said if I was comfortable with knit and purl and could keep the right number of stitches on the needle, I was probably ready to do some simple lace. The perfectionist in me had other ideas. She had this knitting thing all mapped out--she had decided that we were going to knit a dozen perfect dishcloths, all in different stitches, and in a variety of colours, and only then would we be sufficiently practiced to even think about trying our hand at lace.

Well, I told my perfectionist to go to hell, bought some lovely dusty rose yarn, and began knitting a simple lace scarf. And it's actually turning out pretty well! (Maybe well enough to put in Little Mouse's xmas stocking, but don't tell her!) I'm quite proud of myself for actually being able to do this, because for years I've had this mental block about knitting: I'm too stupid to learn to knit...even Mum couldn't teach me, and she's got the patience of a saint...

Pictures soon, I promise!

What a Difference the Right Tools Makes!

I have knit.

I mean, really, made a cute little swatch of knitting with no mistakes in it! If you use your imagination, it actually looks like it could be part of a sweater or a rather pathetic little scarf instead of something barely alive that the cat dragged in.

The key was finding a book that had pictures in it that I could actually follow (and showed me a left-handed method different from what my other books showed!), buying a pair of bamboo knitting needles (much less slippery than the metal ones I had), and buying some real wool, mysteriously harvested from real sheep, rather than that nasty acrylic stuff I had in my crochet basket. I've always been appalled at what they do to those poor helpless baby acrylics when harvesting their pelts, anyway, so I'm glad I don't have to support that industry with my tacky crocheted afghans anymore.

Five minutes after looking at the pictures in the new book, I was knitting away. Slowly, to be sure, but over the past few days I've picked up speed, and have even ventured ever so timidly on to the next page where I confronted the dreaded "purl" stitch, something I never dreamed I would ever be clever enough to figure out. Ah, the mysteries of knitting, unravelling before my very eyes!

At the moment, I am trying to disentangle myself from several hundred yards of wool that attacked me when the dogs knocked over my knitting basket. It has somehow come free of its skeins and wrapped itself about me spider-web fashion. Typing is becoming quite difficult as my left hand is almost entirely immobilized. I shall blog more when I get free...

Spatially Challenged

So, I know I've been silent for a few days, here, so I just thought I'd pop in and let you know what I've been up to. I have a new passion...knitting. Not socks and mittens and booties kind of knitting, but elegant cobwebby lacy shawls kind of knitting.

You know, the sort of knitting that takes years of practice and oodles of talent.

You know, the sort of thing I don't have.

In spades.

So the other day, armed with
1. an extensive set of knitting needles (given to me by my husband's mother, who prefers crochet),
2. a pile of worsted-weight yarn in rainbow colors left over from various abandoned crochet projects (I can crochet, which makes this whole thing doubly frustrating),
3. several books promising me that I would be knitting scarves, jumpers and various undergarments in no time, and
4. a burning desire to knit,
I opened my book to the page for absolute beginners and prepared to cast on (where you get your first row of stitches onto the knitting needle).

And here is where my inability to translate two-dimensional drawings into three-dimensional movements of yarn and needles trips me up. I cannot follow the damn pictures. All those squiggles of yarn going every which way...I tried three different methods and couldn't figure out any of them.

In desperation, I called my mother. "I'm a complete moron!" I wailed.

"No, you're not," she said. "Let me get my needles and yarn and I'll talk you through it."

Five minutes later, I had my first thirty stitches cast on.

It feels dreadfully awkward, though, so I'm sure I must be doing something wrong. Of course, what my mom told me is the "right handed" method, which is the way she knits and the way all my books demonstrate. And me being left handed, I wonder if I'd be better off doing it left handed...but although the books show how to knit left handed, they don't show you how to cast on left handed, and I'm so spatially challenged that I can't translate right handed instructions to left handed...

So at the moment, I am feeling extremely useless, awkward, stupid, and slow, and I'm starting to wonder if I ought to just give up my dreams of delicate, fussy lace and go back to crocheting pot holders.

Oh, well, at least I've managed not to stab myself with a knitting needle.

Yet.

Writing Prompt: Mastery of anything takes time, and too often we are unwilling to put in the time and practice it takes to master something. Is there anything you would like to master but have not tried because you feel it would take you too long to learn? What's really stopping you?